Exception to the Rule
by Alistair Ulven
Summary: "I suppose it's not too late to indulge in a little Inter-House Unity?" -In which Draco is introduced to the subtle art of gift giving on Christmas, and both him and Hermione have no idea what "romantic" means.


I own nothing, sadly.

Warning: Contains massive amounts of fluff and cheesiness. Since my work usually tends towards the melancholic, I figured I should write something fluffy. Consider it a (very) late Christmas present. Once again, posting from my phone so please forgive any glaring mistakes .

_**Exception to the Rule:**_

As a rule, Draco did not take excitement at the idea of Christmas time. From a very young age, he had discovered that there was nothing special about receiving gifts on Christmas when he could get anything he wanted at anytime he desired –one of the many advantages of being born into a filthy rich family. Of course, the practice of giving gifts hadn't occurred to him; never in his life had he gifted another on Christmas, discounting immediate family.

That was, until now.

Currently, he stood tall in a navy blue trench coat with the buttons undone, a black sweater underneath that, and matching trousers. He was standing at a bus stop in Muggle London, watching silently as rain sprinkled the street. To any passerby, he would appear to be the epitome of composure, but what they did not know was that he was good at masking his emotions.

In truth, Draco Malfoy was having a mini panic attack in the streets.

Questions were being thrown back and forth in his mind in turmoil as he waited. What if she didn't like it? Why was he doing something entirely uncharacteristic in the first place? Would she be angry if he just left? Maybe he should have gotten something else?

He wasn't used to being so indecisive and simply stood there because he couldn't settle on what he should do. He reached into his coat pocket and felt the smooth material of the box (-he hadn't wrapped it or anything, maybe he should charm it?). He knew that not giving it to her would be a waste, but nevertheless was nervous about what her reaction would be.

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he let his eyes roam over the streets. All the muggle shops were decorated, wreaths hanging from stores and twinkling lights draped over awnings. He could faintly make out artificial Christmas trees inside some shops, and had to admit that while it did look nice, it was nothing compared to how the magical community prepared for Christmas. It was a good change.

"Malfoy!" his head shot to the side at her voice, a few strands of platinum falling into his eyes at the abruptness of the movement. Granger's umbrella was lime green for some absurd reason and for a moment he wondered how she could walk so fast on slick streets.

She ducked into the bus stop beside him and folded her umbrella, shaking out droplets of icy water from her mess of brown curls. She shoved the bright affair into a handbag, obviously charmed to have a vast expanse of space. He had been vacillating before she had shown up, but now that she was here, he knew he'd go through with it.

"You couldn't have picked a busier day to meet up. I was at The Burrow, helping with preparations for Christmas dinner and –Malfoy, why are you looking at me like that?" her expression was quizzical and Draco blinked, unaware that he had been staring.

"You're awfully dressed up," he covered up his mistake smartly, the corner of his lips curling with a grin at the flush her face took on as she looked down at the strappy blue dress she was wearing. It flared from her stomach and was entirely very becoming, though he didn't admit it. He couldn't help thinking how their clothing matched.

"Ginny forced me into it," she sighed in a tone of long-suffering. "It's insensible, I know, but she can be very persuasive."

"I'll say," the grin didn't leave his face.

"So, why did you call me out on Christmas Eve? I thought you weren't the celebratory type."

He took hold of her arm and glanced around to make sure no one was paying them any attention and she quirked a dark eyebrow.

"You'll be entertaining me today, Granger." Until I can work up my apparently nonexistent courage was what he left out.

Her face scrunched up at that, but before she could ask him what exactly he meant, he had already apparated.

They reappeared at a familiar place, and the sight of a pristine snow-covered Hogsmeade kept Hermione from lashing out at Draco for not warning her before side-along apparition, something she did not take pleasure in. Thankful that they had not landed smack-dab in the middle of the streets, her eyes roamed over their surroundings, a smile pulling at her lips at the levitating fairy lights that hovered here and there, which would no doubt look pretty when it was dark.

She felt gooseflesh prickle her bare arms and couldn't stop a shiver from wracking her body –snow had not been on the forecast in London so she had not thought to dress accordingly. Draco was quick to notice, and was shrugging out of his coat, but she was quicker, and cast a warming charm on both of them.

Hermione smiled innocently at the sour look marring his pale face as he rearranged his coat.

"You thwarted my attempt to be gentlemanly, Granger." Juvenile would be the word she would use to describe his tone.

"Since you were so clear about your purposes for asking me along, I wanted to respond in kind," she grinned. "Now, care for a butterbeer?"

He considered protesting –he was supposed to be conducting, but he had to admit that the idea of a warm tankard of butterbeer did sound appealing; the warming charm didn't completely protect them from the cold.

"Sounds nice," he finally said and the duo crunched through the fallen snow towards The Three Broomsticks. Although it was Christmas Eve, Hogsmeade wasn't very crowded –most everyone probably wanted to spend Christmas with their families. Large Christmas trees stood proud outside nearly every shop, adorned with real hollies that blossomed and closed and the gentle sound of Christmas Carols reverberated in the air.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the inn. Madam Rosmerta had gone all out. The inside of The Three Broomsticks was charmed so that tiny, perfect snowflakes fell from the ceiling, but it was still warm. Plump Christmas trees that reminded Hermione vividly of her third year at Hogwarts sat at every corner, enchanted candles hanging from the branches and little creatures she couldn't make out fluttering about them. Even the tables and chairs were themed to match.

"Well, this is a sight," Draco murmured, one blonde eyebrow rising as they sipped on their warm, frothy butterbeer, not bothering to seat themselves as they wouldn't be lingering for too long.

"You don't think it's pretty?"

"It's altogether too much."

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. He admired the way a few stray snowflakes settled on her hair.

"You're just difficult to please." Draco had to fight the amused smirk that threatened to slip onto his face at how wrong she was. All it took to please him was that she was here with him.

They made quick work of their drinks, and stepped back outside and were met with a gush of cool air, a little jarring after the warmth of the pub. Draco's hands were shoved in his pockets, wondering whether he should just give it to her now and be done with it, but she grabbed his arm and started to drag him through the fallen snow.

"Look! They're caroling!" She pointed at a particularly fat Christmas tree under which a group of people wearing identical red robes were singing, their melodious voices emphasized by music that seemed to come from nowhere.

"I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, you know," Draco huffed, but did not mind in the least that Hermione retained her grip on his arm as they came to a stop in front of the carolers. They were all children, looking about ten or eleven, with rosy cheeks, and most of them grinned at the handsome couple in blue that had stopped to listen to them.

"I don't know this carol," Hermione frowned in thought; it must not be a Muggle one. The only Wizarding carols she had ever heard were God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff, sung by Sirius at Grimmauld Place and the very few sung at Hogwarts.

"What's so good about them anyway?" her companion sounded indifferent, and some of the grins turned into dirty looks.

Hermione shot him an appraising look. "First the decorations, and now the carols? You really must not like Christmas. I'm at a loss as to why you even wanted to spend Christmas Eve with me." He was thankful that her tone was inquisitive rather than the accusatory one he'd been expecting.

"Like you said, I'm not exactly the celebratory type. Seems to me like a waste of time," Draco gestured around them, and unbeknownst to him and Hermione, the dirty looks on the faces of the carolers became more prominent, and a few of them stopped singing.

"You're avoiding the question," she pointed out, and crossed her arms over her chest in a very Hermione-like fashion. Her attention was on Draco and she failed to notice that the caroling had stopped entirely, and only the music was still playing.

Draco dusted off some snowflakes from his platinum looks, trying to think of anything that might distract her, but coming up with nothing. Her expression was determined.

He sighed.

"Look, the reason I called you out today is because I go-,"

"Draco, duck!" She had been facing the children, and at the last moment noticed the large balls of snow hurtling towards them, the carolers snickering as they ducked behind the Christmas tree.

He fixed her with a bewildered expression –his back was to the kids.

"Why- what the bloody hell!" His coat did little to help against the freezing snowballs that barreled onto his back and Draco let out a stream of choice curse words. Whipping around and spotting the giggling children amidst the branches of the Christmas tree, he glared daggers at them.

Meanwhile, Hermione had formed several tennis ball sized globs of snow from the spot on the ground she had launched herself onto when they'd assaulted Draco. She began to levitate the snowballs and grinned impishly at the looks on the children's faces as she sent them flying towards them, raining snow on their red robes.

They squealed as cold snow dribbled into their clothes. Hermione tried and failed to look stern, she kept breaking into fits of giggles.

"He was trying to tell me something important, you know!" She half-laughed and half-frowned as they ran away, squirming and reaching into their robes to get rid of the snow.

"Well then," she turned around to face Draco, who she was sure must have been watching the scene with a triumphant smirk on his face. "What were you about to-,"

She was cut off by a large snowball to the face, courtesy of a grinning Draco. A few people out on the streets were watching them with amused expressions, wondering if they weren't cold.

She sputtered, spitting out snow that had found its way into her mouth. "What was that for?!"

The grin didn't leave his face, and he had another snowball prepared in hand.

"Seeing as I am all wet, I don't see why you shouldn't be either!" He hurled the snowball at her and she deflected it with a lazy flick of her wand, taking pleasure in the way his smirk transformed into a pout.

"That's hardly fair!" He pulled out his wand from his coat, fully prepared to send an onslaught of snowballs her way but his haste cost him and the box bearing Hermione's gift slipped out of his coat, the powder blue color clearly visible against the snow it landed on.

Hermione's russet eyes fell on the box; although it was small, he must surely have charmed his coat to hold it without the bulge showing. Snowball duel forgotten, she trudged towards him, suddenly realizing that she was ankle deep in snow, and freezing. The effects of the warming charm had dispersed.

Absently rubbing her bare arms, she watched as he stared at it, his cheeks flushing. It was a very faint red, but still visible on his pale skin.

"Are you going to pick that up?" Hermione asked airily, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself up.

"Close your eyes, Granger." He had picked up the box, all too aware that Hermione was freezing, but trying not to let that get to him too much. To hell with timing, Draco decided. He'd give it to her now.

"What?"

"You heard me, eyes closed," he said, tone positively overbearing. Resisting the urge to roll them, Hermione shut her eyes, wondering what was in the box, and whether it was for her.

She heard him stride over to her, and couldn't help but peek. She was met with his disapproving grey gaze, his hand ready to open the lid of the box.

"_Closed_, Granger."

Huffing, she obeyed, impatience coursing throughout her body. She picked up the sound of something dropping to the ground –probably the lid—and felt Draco arrange something warm and soft around her neck. His fingers gently brushed aside her hair and Hermione shivered, not because of the cold. What he had draped around her neck was some sort of cloth, and it smelled of expensive cologne and fabric softener. Without thinking, she took a whiff of it, relishing in the smell that was distinctly Draco. Oh please don't let it be a scarf, she chanted in her mind. Anything but a scarf.

"Can I open them now?" She hummed, and Draco grinned at her ability to sound like a whiny six-year old when she wanted to.

He moved to stand in front of her. "Go ahead."

Hermione opened her eyes to face an anxious looking Draco, and looked down at the striped silver and green scarf dangling from her neck, its ends fluttering lightly in the wind. She blinked once, twice, and felt the soft fabric between her fingers. It was his Slytherin scarf from school. A simple gift, but the meaning behind it was clear.

"It's not much, but you were the smartest witch of our age, so you should be able to figure it out," Draco's attempts to sound gruff and unaffected went to waste; his eyes betrayed everything. The grey hues were speckled with anticipation and doubt.

Hermione's eyes darted down towards the scarf, and she lost the fight to keep her expression pleasant. It was an almost perfect present in her opinion, and an enormous gesture coming from a person like Malfoy. But there was still a tiny problem.

"You don't like it?" Draco lost all pretences of calm. "Right, it was stupid anyway, come on, we'll get you something better-," he made an attempt to get the scarf off but she pulled back, alarmed that he had taken it the wrong way.

"No! No, I adore it, it's very nice," she'd be damned if she was going to give it up now, the thing smelled like him for Merlin's sake. "It's just that…"

"It's just what?" Draco pressed, spurred on by the fact that she actually liked it; adored it, no less.

Hermione bit her lip, and then reached into her handbag, pulling out a fluffy item swathed in shimmery silver wrapping. Immediately it clicked, and Draco didn't know if he should laugh, or cry. Or both.

She didn't ask him to close his eyes like he had. He supposed it was because there was no real suspense anymore and faintly wondered what the people around them might be thinking. She let him undo the wrapping –it was his gift after all—and allowed the bright red and gold Gryffindor scarf to fall into his hands.

"I suppose we had the same idea," she murmured sheepishly.

He didn't know what to say.

Smiling tentatively, Hermione picked up the scarf from his hands and draped it around his neck, holding onto the ends a little longer than necessary. Draco gazed down at her questioningly, hardly daring to hope.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she pulled on the ends of the scarf, tugging his head down, and pressed her lips to his. Their lips were icy cold, as were Draco's hands when he pulled her closer and wrapped them around her waist, but there was warmth in the way he looked at her when she pulled away for breath. The few people watching around them started to roll their eyes in amusement, wondering why it had taken so long.

His grinned, somewhat incredulously, as he gazed down at their scarves.

"I suppose it's not too late to indulge in a little Inter-House Unity?"

Hermione's response was obviously in the positive.

And as they ducked back into The Three Broomsticks for some much needed shelter from the cold, Draco found himself thanking his lucky stars that he'd decided today would be the exception to his rule -a Christmas to enjoy.

* * *

><p>So there it is. Told you it would be cheesy xD It's clichéd, but I liked the idea of the scarves, and especially liked Draco's line at the end. Please review and tell me what you think!<p> 


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